Here, Among the Stones
by Cropper
Summary: Post "Grave Danger" first time story. A birthday present for atrueparrothead coauthored by Smacky30.


**Title:** Here, Among the Stones

**Author:** Smack the Crop (Smacky30 and Cropper)

**Pairing:** Grissom/Sara

**Rating:** Adult, NC-17, Mature, Smutty…Take Your Pick. Oh, and there be angst here. You have been warned.

**Spoilers:** Only if you have been living under a rock. This little ficlet takes place immediately following Nick's rescue in "Grave Danger."

**Disclaimer:**Don't own them. Never have, never will.

**Authors' Notes:**

**Smacky30:**I don't have a whole lot to say. Thanks to Mingsmommy and LosingInTranslation for the beta work. Thanks to Cincoflex and belismakr for taking part in the strangest election known to man. Thanks to atrueparrothead for being born and to Cropper for writing ¾ of this beast.

**Cropper: **This is a collaborative birthday fic for our dear friend**atrueparrothead** who asked for a very adult, first time, "Grave Danger" story.

A giant, rousing round of applause goes out to **Cincoflex**,**mingsmommy**, **LosingInTranslation**, **belismakr** and, of course, **Smacky30**. All of these lovely women either graciously performed a beta read or provided a head check, which was probably more important, to keep me on the straight and narrow path. Thank you, ladies.

Finally, I would be horribly remiss if I did not extend a huge, huge note of thanks to my sister **Eejits**. They might not all have been actively involved in this particular little offering, but they are always there and always have my back.

_**For the eyes of sweet Virginia were headlights on the road  
A beacon for the weary heart that hardens as it goes  
In the eyes of sweet Virginia, the fields of Kansas lay  
And stretched to California, a hope for better days**_

"I want my guys back."

The dust from the explosion settled heavily, covering everything in its wake with the fetid stench of desperation. Rotting vegetation and acrid fertilizer soiled the night air, bits of decay and ruin amidst the promise of new life, a new start. From destruction nature would bloom anew, its dazzling colors hiding the harsh reminders of what could have been, what might have been.

Sara glanced worriedly at Grissom as he uttered those anguished words. She did not know if he was actually speaking to Ecklie, to her, to Greg or merely thinking aloud. She did know that she had never heard him so defeated, so vulnerable.

Everyone had leaned heavily on Grissom during the nightmare of the previous 24 hours. The whole ordeal had ground and chaffed against each of them until they were raw; only Grissom had managed to remain calm and focused until Nick was finally safe. But now, as they watched the ambulance slowly fade into the night, Sara could sense that he was slipping. Tiny fissures of bitter emotion were cracking through his stony façade and threatened to explode as violently as Nick's would-be coffin.

Ecklie departed soon after the ambulance, presumably headed for Desert Palm to brief the Sheriff and the media on the details surrounding the swing shift CSI's rescue. Grissom, Sara and Greg, running on nothing but nerves, were left behind to process the scene.

The trio moved methodically about the nursery, Sara keeping a careful eye on both men as they sifted through the earthy debris. The comforting familiarity of work seemed to soothe Grissom; he fell into a silent, rhythmic pattern of documentation. Greg, on the other hand, appeared to grow more agitated with each passing hour. The enormity of the entire ordeal seemed to be finally creeping into his consciousness, shattering his concentration and professional detachment.

Sara was perilously close to losing control herself. The secret knowledge that she would have the opportunity to spend some quality alone time with Grissom, the sweet, unnamed, something more than friendship that had been slowly building and strengthening for the past several months, was all that kept her going. She would allow herself the luxury of falling apart only when it was safe and she knew that Grissom would be there to catch her, hold her and keep her safe. He was her rock, her anchor.

Dragging Greg behind her, Sara approached Grissom and watched as he carefully stowed the last of the evidence bags in the back of the Denali. Grissom did not look up from the ordered precision of his task as he began to speak.

"Are you…" he began.

"Hey," she quickly interrupted, not sure what he was going to ask but quite certain that whatever it was, it wasn't meant for Greg's ears. Their fledgling relationship was still too new, too hesitant, to risk accidental disclosure as the result of a high stress situation. "Greg wants me to go have breakfast with him." She glanced at the young man, deciding that Grissom's understanding of the circumstances were more important than Greg's privacy at the moment. "This whole thing," she continued, waving her hand to encompass the crime scene, "has really shaken him up. He needs someone to talk it through with."

Grissom nodded as he slammed the door of the truck shut and pulled his sunglasses from his jacket pocket. Sara ducked her head, trying to see Grissom's face.

"You okay?" she asked, a little concerned by his refusal to make eye contact. He merely nodded again, staring at his feet, seemingly fascinated by the layers of grime clinging to the hem of his slacks.

"Yeah," he sighed, the forlorn utterance barely convincing.

Sara furrowed her brow. She might know him better than most people but not even she could read him all of the time. "You're sure? Where're you going to be later?"

"The lab," he shrugged, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes.

_**Hang on dreams, you ain't seen it all  
And I don't want much, I just want it all  
And I will search forever, here among the stones  
Oh, to find a girl who looks like home**_

Hours later, Grissom was still at the lab when Greg dropped Sara off to pick up her car. They were standing in the hall saying good-bye when she saw Grissom emerge from Trace and head for his office. She flashed him a soft smile of greeting before returning her attention to Greg. The long breakfast had apparently been very beneficial for the younger man; Sara could see the twinkle in his eye and puckish grin on his face as he spoke.

"Thanks for sleeping with me, Sara. I gotta tell you, it was really great to curl up around you and wake up on top of you."

Sara's eyes widened and she popped him smartly on the shoulder for making such an outrageous statement at the lab. She knew Greg was teasing but Grissom was standing right down the hall. This was not exactly a conversation, innocent though it may be, that she wanted him to overhear. Greg just grinned, slipping away from Sara's half-hearted blow to wrap his arms loosely about her waist.

"I'll call you later so we can grab some dinner and maybe catch a movie or something." He punctuated his comments with a tight squeeze and kissed Sara lightly on the cheek. He whispered something in her ear that made her laugh and, after one last friendly embrace, finally wandered off.

Sara watched Greg until she was sure he was out of sight before turning back to speak to Grissom. The hall was empty; Grissom had vanished. She quickly strode from his office to the break room to the locker room and in and out of all of the various labs looking for him. He was nowhere to be found.

_**And the one-night stands are the lost patrol, the taxi dancer days  
And rock and roll's a sailor, in port for just a day  
In the eyes of sweet Virginia was something I had lost  
It's something how your life will fall, is to how the heart is tossed**_

Sara sat in her car outside of Grissom's townhouse, waiting for him to arrive. Sooner or later, he would come home, he always did. Despite the fact that he had given her a key several weeks ago, she preferred to wait. She wanted to watch him before he had time to hide behind his many formidable emotional walls. She was aware that he had probably seen and heard everything that happened in the hall with Greg and deserved some sort of an explanation, some reassurance that Greg was nothing more than just a friend. She was not entirely certain that Grissom possessed the ability to make that distinction right now.

An hour passed before he finally pulled up and Sara watched him literally stumble from his car and head towards his house. She slid out of her car and eased the door shut while keeping a keen eye trained on Grissom. His hands were shaking as he fumbled with his keys. The heavy ring slipped from his trembling fingers with a loud clang against the pitted cement. His head fell forward in a momentary gesture of defeat, his shoulders heaving in a weary sigh before he summoned the strength to bend down to retrieve his errant keys. However, Sara was faster and scooped up his key ring, brushing his fingers in the process. He seemed startled by her sudden appearance but recovered quickly and motioned her towards the entryway.

Sara unlocked the door and gently led Grissom inside. She closed and relocked the door, eyeing him carefully as he staggered to the sofa and all but collapsed. He evidently grabbed a shower at the lab at some point during the day as his clothes were clean, but rumpled, and he no longer wore a fine film of dust. Exhaustion sharpened his features but Sara also detected an air of sorrow seeping from him that she suspected had little to do with Nick and everything to do with what he had witnessed in the hallway at the lab.

Perched cautiously on the edge of the sofa, Sara reached out to grasp one of his large hands. He said nothing, just allowed her hand to wrap around his and solemnly watched her with sad, lonely eyes. She used her free hand to try to soothe away the furrows cutting across his forehead, hard-hewn ridges that seemed to burrow deeper into his care-worn skin since Nick's kidnapping.

"You're tired," she murmured, her long fingers still drifting lightly over his exhausted features. "Did you manage to sneak in a nap?"

Grissom silently shook his head before closing his eyes and slouching down farther on the sofa. "Me either," she whispered.

His eyes popped open as he rolled his head along the cushion to look at her, his confusion evident. "I thought you slept with…" he paused a moment and swallowed heavily, "…at Greg's."

"Greg slept, I didn't. At his questioning look she added, her voice trembling and childlike, "You weren't there to hold me." He slipped an arm around her shoulder and drew her closer. Sara sucked in a deep shuddering breath before continuing; unshed tears evident in her voice.

"God, Gris, so many things could have gone so wrong. What if…what if…"

She started crying in earnest, her words choked out between sobs. "Three times, Gris. You could have died on me three times, been blown to smithereens and I would have been left with nothing. Walter Gordon damn near killed you when he blew himself up. And he almost got you two more times. You were on top of that coffin with Nick. You knew if Nicky could not keep it together that was it; you both were goners. And then, you were at the front of that rope, nearest to the blast."

Sara reared back to look at him, her anger rising along with her voice. "What were you thinking? Were you trying to be some sort of hero? Do you have a death wish or something?"

Grissom shook his head sadly before speaking. "I don't have a death wish and I'll never be a hero." He carefully enfolded one of her slender hands within his larger ones as he continued speaking in a hushed voice. "Gordon didn't want to kill me, well, not physically, anyway. He wanted to destroy me psychologically, to make me feel more worthless than usual. And he nearly succeeded."

Perplexed by Grissom's odd, seemingly random disclosures, Sara opened her mouth to argue, to tell him that he was not worthless, that he was a hero, her hero, but he placed a finger lightly on her lips to silence her. "And with Nick? I didn't think about the explosives or the risks. All I wanted to do was get him out of that box alive. I couldn't stand by again and do nothing. The rest of it really didn't matter."

"Yeah, well," she sniffled, "it mattered to **_ME_**, Grissom. It mattered a whole hell of a lot to me. It's all I can think about. I nearly lost you. I can't handle that."

Grissom reached out to wipe away a tear. "Everything worked out, Sara. We got Nick back and he's going to be fine. Everything worked out."

She shook her head and cried harder. He did not understand that she was crying more at the thought of losing him than about what might have happened to Nick. He held her tightly as she cried, his fierce embrace forming a warm protective cocoon. "It's okay, Sara," he whispered into her ear. "Let go. I've got you."

It could have been minutes or it could have been hours before Sara's tears finally slowed to a stop. She rested on Grissom's chest for long moments, relishing the peaceful serenity found within the haven of his strong arms and the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath her ear. She finally summoned the strength to lift her head and was surprised to find him watching her.

His eyes were raw, that acute longing and loneliness had returned with a vengeance. She reached up to stroke his bearded cheek, trying to offer him some comfort. He leaned toward her but suddenly pulled back with a sad sigh.

"You going to be okay?"

"Yeah, Gris, as long as I have you to hold me, I'm pretty sure I'll be fine."

He looked in her eyes for confirmation that she was being honest with him before allowing his head to drop wearily to the back of the couch once again. Sara gingerly moved his head to rest upon her shoulder and snaked a slender arm behind his back to snuggle him more tightly into her side. Grissom allowed her to pull him closer, too exhausted to argue, gratefully accepting the contact and solace offered by her touch.

They remained on the sofa until Sara felt the tension drain from his body. She heard his breathing grow deeper and more relaxed and knew he was very close to the edge of sleep. "Come on, Gris," she whispered, rubbing his stomach to get his attention. "You can't crash here. I'm putting you to bed."

_**Hang on dreams, you ain't seen it all  
And I don't want much, I just want it all  
And I will search forever, here among the stones  
Oh, to find a girl who looks like home**_

Grissom thrashed around in bed, head moving back and forth across the pillow in a furious rhythm as he struggled in vain to escape his own horrifying mental bondage. His hair and t-shirt were drenched with sweat. All of his residual feelings of impotence and helplessness brought forth by Nick's ordeal invaded his slumber to crash upon him in mammoth rolling waves. His dreams spooled out unbidden and relentless, terrifying in their Technicolor clarity and detail.

_The DNA Lab exploded into a rainbow of prismatic test tubes and beakers. Grissom gagged on the smoke and razor-sharp slivers of glass as he frantically pawed through the rubble in his desperate quest to find her. He burrowed further into the destruction, the flesh stripped from his hands and knees as he crawled through the lab searching, searching, searching. He finally found her, or what was left of her, in the protective sanctuary of his office. Sara had splintered into a million dazzling shards. Her brilliant smile and a small heart-shaped key were all that remained, resting sweetly on his spotless desk blotter, taunting him, haunting him, as he reached out to touch them with shaking skeletal fingers. Clutching the key in his hand, he looked madly about for her heart. Somehow he knew that if he could use the key to open her heart, he could bring her back to him._

_Sara's crazed, alcoholic, half-mad father repeatedly stabbed her twelve-year-old body, the blood a flooding river of death against the dingy stained linoleum. Over and over the knife plunged, Sara flopping on the filthy floor like an ill-loved rag-doll beneath the relentless onslaught. Grissom watched helplessly through Sara's dying eyes as her mother finally managed to wrestle the knife away from her father and put an end to the abuse once and for all. _

_Adam Trent howled with unrepentant glee, digging the pottery shiv deeper and deeper into Sara's jugular. Blood, there was so much blood. Great ribbons of copper-scented crimson streamed under the door to pool around his feet, mocking him, begging him to do something, anything. Sara's once vibrant life force climbed steadily up the legs of his trousers, creating a bitter, metallic whirlpool that crept higher and higher until he was totally engulfed. The violently swirling vortex sucked him under, gasping and choking on his own impotence and fear, while her unanswered cries for help echoed through his waning consciousness._

_Sara lay entombed beneath the suffocating earth banging and pushing on the casket. She called out to him, begged him to help her, but he did nothing. The fiery red ants tore at her body, devouring her, shredding her flesh in angry bloody strips. Grissom screamed and balled his fists, slamming them on the desk in hopeless anguish. Safely ensconced in his ivory tower, he helplessly watched the ghastly video transmission. He was utterly powerless and could only watch as Sara was slowly eaten alive, inch by gruesome inch._

_Walter Gordon stood in the deep shadows of the abandoned warehouse clutching Sara tightly against his chest. She struggled with the zip ties binding her wrists. His oily voice taunted Grissom, his words slithering through a satisfied smirk that Grissom longed to erase with a well-thrown jab. _

_"What does Sara Sidle mean to you? Gordon questioned pleasantly. "How do you feel when you look at her, see her here in my arms and know there is nothing you can do to save her? Does your soul die every time you think of me pushing this button? How do you feel, knowing there's nothing you can do to get her out of this hell? Helpless… useless…impotent?"_

_Gordon, polite to the end, quirked an eyebrow and told Grissom in a solicitous tone that he should probably step back a bit, out of harm's way. Grissom stumbled, not knowing whether to move back or rush forward. Gordon watched Grissom's turmoil with a disinterested grin, turned and smiled serenely, almost paternally, at Sara as his thumb slowly depressed the detonator._

"**SARA!" **

Grissom shot up in bed, mercifully awakened from his night terrors by the sound of his own shouting. He looked wildly about the room, trying to verify if any of what he had just witnessed was real or if his own mind was cruelly preying upon him. He glanced behind him to the other side of the bed, the side where Sara had slept, and started shaking again when he saw that she had gone. He fought his way free from the tangled knot of sodden sheets and slumped dejectedly on the edge of the bed.

_**For the eyes of sweet Virginia were headlights on the road  
A beacon for the weary heart that hardens as it goes**_

Sara emerged from the bathroom, a soft billowing cloud of steam preceding her. "Hey, Babe, did you call me?" she asked while running a brush through her wet hair.

Her eyes widened when she spied him sitting on the edge of the bed. An occasional shudder ran along his spine as he attempted to regain some semblance of control over the nightmarish images still assaulting him. Sara rushed to him, tossing her hairbrush on the nightstand, and knelt between his splayed legs to gently grasp his hands.

His eyes shot open as he jerked back, trying to pull away. Sara held firm, not willing to let him withdraw back into his thoughts. Something, or someone, had obviously preyed upon him while he slept. She often wondered if the work affected him like it did everyone else, if he suffered from night terrors like she did. The proof was sitting right before her and she ran one hand along his cheek, stroking his beard, trying to get him to look at her. Grissom drew a stuttering breath and turned his face away.

"Hey." Sara's voice was colored with indignation and hurt. "Grissom. Talk to me."

He stood and moved quickly towards the door, growling, "I'm fine, Sara. Leave it alone." He kept walking towards the living room, hoping to escape any further discussion.

"You're not 'fine'!" she snapped at him, following closely on his heels. "You're sweating and shaking…you obviously had a nightmare."

Grissom flinched at the harshness of her tone before turning on her, allowing the terror from his shattered dreams to explode into a defensive anger. "Are you leaving?" he asked in a rough voice, an edge of desperation haunting his tone.

"Wha…" she stammered, taken aback by his abrupt change of topic.

He motioned at her, his hand waving up and down in blunt agitated chops. "You're showered and dressed. Are you leaving?"

Oh, God, Sara thought to herself. He thinks I'm running off to meet Greg or something. She rolled her eyes, the urge to smack Grissom between the eyes with a 2x4 nearly overwhelming. "I don't believe this," she cried. "You're jealous!"

His eyes narrowed dangerously as he contemplated her accusation. His voice was brittle when he answered. "Maybe. Possibly. But it's not what you think."

"Then explain it to me Grissom, because I thought you understood. Greg and I are friends, nothing more. He just wanted someone to talk to and hold his hand while he slept. There is nothing, _**nothing**_ going on between Greg and me."

Grissom did not respond; he just stared at her, trembling. Sara did not know if he was shivering due to the cold air blowing through the town house or if he was struggling to repress his emotions.

"He needed me, damnit," she choked in frustration, frustration at not being able to make him understand and frustration for not understanding what he wanted. "What was I supposed to do?"

"I needed you." The words sounded like ground glass as he forced them out, the harsh, angry glitter of his eyes softened around the edges by vulnerability. His head dropped as he fought once more to regain control.

He finally raised his head, mask firmly in place, and all of the color leeched from Sara's face as she stared back. Grissom's eyes were flat and dead. There was no twinkle, no spark, nothing; just empty, spiritless gray pools. All the life had seemingly bled from his soul. Defeat and despair hung on every word he mumbled.

"Go, Sara. Do what you need to do. I'll see you at work tomorrow."

Sara watched Grissom trudge down the hall to disappear into the bathroom while trying to figure out what just happened. She knew that he was not thinking clearly and that he was obviously hurting but never dreamt he would blow things so far out of proportion. She couldn't leave now, even if she wanted to. She knew he did not want to be alone. There was really only one way to fix this.

_**In the eyes of sweet Virginia, the fields of Kansas lay  
And stretched to California, a hope for better days**_

She slowly opened the bathroom door, peering cautiously through the rapidly building steam. Grissom's silhouette was freakishly distorted by the swirling frosted glass of the shower door but she could see that he was slumped against the far wall of the stall, his forehead resting heavily on the tile wall as the water pounded against his back. Sara chewed her lip worriedly, not at all certain that she was making the right decision. Pushing those thoughts aside, she stripped down quickly, cracked the shower door open just enough to wiggle through and slipped in behind him.

Grissom jumped and tried to turn when he heard the door open but Sara's long arms slid around him, pinning him in place. He struggled and tried to pull away but she simply tightened her grip, locked her hands together in front of his chest and leaned forward to speak directly into his ear.

"…Shhhh, Grissom. It's okay. Let go. I won't let you fall. Let go, baby. I've got you."

He stopped struggling and stood very still. A moment of truth in their newly-expanded relationship had finally arrived, one more important than sincere apologies for mutual hurt and misunderstanding, one that would ultimately determine whether they would or would not be able to move forward as a couple. Sara knew of no other way to make Grissom understand that he could trust her enough to relinquish some of his self-imposed, iron-clad emotional control, that she cared for him deeply enough, as a man, to not ridicule his feelings and fears, than to hold him and show him. She waited and prayed; he had to come to this realization on his own.

Time all but stood still as the water continued to flow over and around them. Sara hoped Grissom's fears and reservations were sloughing off and circling the drain; washed from his psyche forever. Grissom finally stirred and wiped some droplets from his eyes, trying to turn in the restrictive confines of her grasp to look at her. He gazed at her for several long moments before speaking, barely able to grind out wistful plea.

"Yeah?"

Sara did not trust herself to speak around the huge lump that had formed in her throat. She nodded and loosened her grip enough to allow him to turn and face her. Grissom tentatively wrapped his arms around her waist, lowered his head to her shoulder and buried his face in her neck. As her hands slid up his slick back to pull him closer, his arms cinched tighter and, at long last, the flood gates burst open.

She felt the difference between his scalding tears and the scorching water raining down upon them and wanted nothing more than to absorb him pain. She did not know if it was Nick's ordeal or the simply the fact that he had finally, finally realized she was more than willing to hold him if he faltered that was responsible for him letting go, but it did not matter. Both were soon trembling, the intensity of the shared emotional release far more cleansing than the waterfall cascading all around them. Eventually their shaking legs refused to support them and they slid to the floor of the shower stall in a limp tangle of arms, legs and tears.

Slowly, painfully, as if every muscle ached, Grissom reached up to twist off the quickly cooling water. He struggled to his feet before reaching down to help Sara stand as well. They toweled off, strangely unaware that they were seeing the other completely naked for the first time, and moved silently from the bathroom to the bedroom.

Grissom slumped wearily on the bed while Sara moved to the dresser and fished out clothes for both of them. She tossed Grissom a pair of soft flannel pajama pants and an old t-shirt before grabbing a second set for herself. They eased under the blankets and scooted together so that Sara's head was resting on his chest. The room was silent, neither particularly wanting to break the fragile peace that had settled between them.

"You stayed," he finally murmured, surprise and a hint of wonder evident in his tone.

She nodded, the slight movement of her head softly caressing the solid flesh beneath her cheek.

"Why?"

"This is where I want to be," she said simply. "This is where I_**need**_ to be. Grissom, there is never a choice when it comes to you. Never. You're my home."

Sara could practically hear the gears spinning in his head as he turned her words over and over in his mind. She lay quietly, waiting for him to sort out the truth of her simple statements and draw his own conclusions. Her patience was rewarded and she breathed a sigh of relief when Grissom's hands finally reached for her, one slipping beneath her shirt to stroke the silky skin of her back and the other tangling in her hair as he pulled her tighter against his side.

"Grissom? Sara's whisper softly stole into the shared serenity. "Do you know what I really wanted to do after shift?"

Grissom shook his head and gave a slight grunt. He did not feel like speaking. He just wanted to lie quietly and absorb the harmony they had discovered.

"The same thing I've wanted to do for about three weeks now."

Sara rose slightly to kiss him, slowly, chastely, moving her lips upon his. She pulled back to gauge his reaction and was thrilled by the look of cautious pleasure on his face. Grissom's eyes had darkened and she could see another emotion awakening in him, one that had nothing to do with Nick or Greg or Walter Gordon or fire ants or anything outside of that bedroom. No, what she was seeing was meant only for her.

"All I wanted was to come home and do this." She bent down to taste him again, quickly increasing the intensity. "This isn't about Nick," she murmured between hot, wet kisses, "this isn't about Greg." Her mouth reluctantly left his and moved the shell of his ear. "This is about you…me…us."

_**Hang on dreams, you ain't seen it all  
And I don't want much, I just want it all  
And I will search forever, here among the stones  
Oh, to find a girl who looks like home**_

For the first time, Grissom realized that Sara was in his bed; in his clothes, between his sheets, snuggled against his chest. He looked around, trying to memorize everything about the moment. The drapes were drawn, leaving just a faint light bleeding around the edges. Her face was shadowed, but he could still make out her features and the emotion shining in her eyes.

Grissom heard the quiet hum of the air conditioner. He felt the rush of cool air across his bare arms and the warmth of Sara's breath on his face. She smelled wonderful and vaguely he wondered why his shampoo smelled so good on her. Then Sara dipped her head and he no longer cared about the setting

Her body was soft against his, her hand resting lightly against his chest. She returned to her exploration of his mouth, teasing and nipping until nothing mattered except her lips on his. It was, very possibly, the most sensual experience of his life. Soft and slow and sweet, she claimed him with those kisses, made him her very own and he was helpless to deny her. His exhaustion of a few minutes before was hastily fading into the background, desire taking its place.

His hand slid further up her back, needing to touch her, needing to know just how silky her skin was. Slowly, almost stealthily, his other hand slid along the curve of her shoulder, traced her collar bone and brushed over her breast. He heard her quick intake of breath just before her slim fingers wrapped around his wrist, dragging his hand away. He froze.

Sara lifted her head and looked into his eyes. "Don't rush this. We've both waited so long…too long. Let's take our time." Her normally husky voice was rough with longing and in her hooded gaze he saw his own desire.

With a smile, he placed his hand behind his head, the other stroking up and down her back. She studied him for a moment before once again lowering her mouth to his. Just before their lips met, he heard her whispered 'thank you.'

_**Hang on dreams, you ain't seen it all  
And I don't want much, I just want it all**_

And so it began - their unhurried discovery of one another. Grissom relished the weight of her on his chest and the way her legs fit together with his. He took delight in her hair falling down to curtain them within its silken length. He couldn't remember ever spending this much time just kissing, but he knew he wanted to do it again and again.

Sara's breathing was rapid and her eyes heavy with need. Still, she kept to the languorous pace she had set. Her lips teased him until her thought he couldn't stand another second without touching her. His heart was pounding and moans that rumbled through his body.

Pulling back, Sara studied him with a smile tilting at the corners of her mouth. His lips were swollen and he looked…blissful. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and she slid her foot up and down his calf, her thigh brushing over the thick ridge of his erection. They both groaned a little at the light contact.

Maneuvering until she was kneeling beside him, she pushed her hands under the hem of his shirt and began to work it up over his chest. When together they managed to get the shirt over his head, she sat perfectly still and looked. Earlier in the shower, he had been far too emotional to worry about being naked in front of her but this was different. Grissom was growing more self-conscious by the second. Finally she touched him.

Fingers feathered over his skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake. She skimmed over his nipples and down along his ribs before trailing a single digit down his abdomen, swirling leisurely around his belly button.

"Sara," he breathed. "I need to see you. Please…"

Her lips tipped up and the wisdom of the ages in her was smile. Sara's hands grasped the hem of her shirt and she lifted it smoothly over her head. She sat before him, her beautiful body exposed to him for the first time and he couldn't breathe. Never, in all the ways and after all the times he had imagined this moment, had he imagined this.

"You are perfect." Awe filled his words with wonder. "Absolutely perfect."

Sara's eyes filled with tears and she shook her head. Placing a gentle finger over her lips, he only nodded his confirmation.

He tugged her down until she once again rested on his chest. The first press of skin on skin and their eyes slid closed at the sheer power of the sensation. None of the caresses they had shared over the past few weeks could have prepared either of them for the heat, the intensity of that simple act. It was so far beyond what they had ever imagined that they were afraid to move, to break the spell.

Finally, Sara nuzzled Grissom's cheek before placing a gossamer kiss above his beard. "I…I didn't…I never thought it would be like this."

Grissom shifted until they were lying on the sides, face to face, and he caught her mouth with his, letting his kiss say what his words couldn't. Once again, his hand trailed over her silken skin. When his warm palm cupped her breast she arched into his touch, her whole body tingling and alive.

The kisses were faster now, heated and demanding. He teased her breasts, drawing her nipples into tight peaks. She ran her hands through his hair, over his shoulders and arms, along the length of his back. Her senses were filled with him; his taste, his smell, the feel of his skin. Everything that he had denied her was suddenly hers.

Grissom nudged her onto her back and ranged over her. Stroking the backs of his fingers over her taut abdomen, he slid his hand between her legs, feeling the damp heat through the soft fabric of her pants. Sara lifted her hips, pushing against his palm, silently begging for more. His hardness was pressing insistently against her hip, telling her he wanted her. He pulled his hand away and she whimpered at the loss of contact. Smiling against her collar bone, he wiggled his fingers beneath her waistband and brushed over the soft curls between her thighs.

"My Sara," he whispered, "my sweet, sweet Sara." His hand moved lower, parting her lips. "So mine."

"Always," she moaned. "Always yours."

He began to fumble with Sara's pants, trying to push them off her hips. She lifted her hips, wiggling a little to help him; both of them chuckling at their awkwardness. Grissom's hand migrated to her thigh. He had fantasized about those thighs for what felt like half his life and he wanted nothing more than to touch them.

Before he could lay a finger on her endless legs, she once again grabbed his wrist. "I…um…I haven't shaved my legs. I mean, we worked almost thirty-six hours, and I didn't have a razor here. I'll understand…if you want to, um, not do this."

Grissom placed his fingers over her mouth, laughing at her ramblings. "Sweetheart, I've waited eight years for this. A little stubble doesn't make a difference."

He bent his head and kissed her, his hand sliding up her thigh and over her hip before slipping once more between her legs. He ran his fingers between her lips, seeking and finding her clit. He could feel her body tense against his, pressing her closer.

Keeping up the sweet assault on her body, Grissom pushed her closer and closer to the edge. His mouth skimmed over her body, searching for the spots that made her breathing hitch, cataloguing them for future use. He was lost in Sara; her reactions, the sounds she made, the way she spread herself open for him and welcomed the finger he pressed into her.

With a gasp, Sara tore her lips from his. Her hands flew to his waist, pushing at his pants. "Off. Take them off. Now."

Reluctantly, he allowed his finger to slide from her body and helped her remove his pajama bottoms. He reached for her only to have Sara push him onto his back and slide on top of him. His cock nestled between her folds and he had to use all his self control to hold off his orgasm.

"Shit, Sara." His voice was ragged and his eyes clenched shut. "It's been too long. I can't…you…oh shit."

"Gil, look at me." Sara pleaded. "Come on. Look at me." His eyes slid open and locked on hers. "Watch me." With that, she lifted her hips and reached between them, guiding him into her.

She slid slowly down the length of him and with every inch he felt his control slipping. She was every fantasy he'd ever had. Hot and wet and tight; she sucked the breath out of his lungs. Before he could move, she took her hands and pinned his arms to the bed beside his head. Her grip was light but he made no attempt to free himself. Bending close, she whispered against his ear, "I'm so close." Then her hips began to move.

She rocked her pelvis against his, keeping her movements short and slow, dragging her clit against him. And Grissom watched. He watched as her eyes fluttered closed. He watched as her tongue darted out to wet her lips, lips that held a smile so beautiful and full of mystery that he couldn't bear to look away. He watched as a flush covered her chest and her nipples began to tighten. When her head fell back and she moaned, a low needy sound, he began to thrust his hips up to meet her.

One, two, three and she was laying on his chest, her hips rising and falling in time with his. The hot hard press of him stretched her and filled her. Gently, he tugged his hands free from her gossamer restraints and grabbed her hips. He guided her up and down, pounding her on his hardness.

Grissom gave a loud grunt, his erection swelling and throbbing within her. She could feel his cock spasm as he came. His hips lifted up, muscles tensing in his push for release. Sara bore down, taking him in as far as he would go, and circling her hips, grinding herself against him. A moment later her body tightened and she came, her muscles fluttering and squeezing and holding him deep within her.

Later, as the lay entwined in that place between awake and asleep, Sara placed a final kiss on Grissom's chest. His groan of contentment was quiet, felt more than heard.

Pulling her just a little closer, he murmured, "Sara?"

He could feel her smile against his skin. "Hmmmmmm?"

"This feels like home to me, too."

_**And I will search forever, here among the stones  
Oh, to find a girl who looks like home**_

"**The Eyes of Sweet Virginia"** – Words and Music by John Stewart

You can find this song on the **Blondes** album. Unfortunately, the song is not available for download, but the CD is available either through Amazon or Homecoming Records.


End file.
